TKAM Journal #4

"To Kill A Mockingbird"

Journal #4

Chapters 10 to 12

Perspective: Atticus Finch

Dear Journal,

           This week has certainly been very tiresome. I’m much too old to be out and (though I wish otherwise) playing with Jem and Scout. I know I shouldn’t be exerting so much energy nowadays. At just the beginning of the week, I received an urgent telephone call from a hysterical Calpurnia. “Mr. Finch!” she yelled into the phone. “This is Cal. I swear to God there’s a mad dog down the street a piece. He’s comin’ this way!” I asked her if she was quite sure that it was a mad dog, and she replied, “Yes sir.” Then I inquired if she recognized the dog. “Mr. Finch, I declare he is-old Tim Johnson, yes sir.” Poor Tim Johnson, I thought as I hung up the phone. No one will live with a mad dog in their neighborhood. He will have to be put down immediately.

          I contacted Heck Tate, the sheriff of Maycomb and he was obliged to drive himself and me to my house street. We arrived quickly (thank goodness, for everyone seemed to be in chaos) and proceeded out of Heck’s black Ford. Jem opened the door to allow us in. Scout stood behind him with a nervous expression that matched her brother’s. I told them to stay inside, then asked Calpurnia where Tim Johnson was at. “He oughta be here by now,” she said, glancing anxiously down the street. Heck, Calpurnia, and I discussed if we should greet him on the street or wait until he came to us. We waited in silence for a few moments. I saw the frightened looks on the neighbors’ faces in the window, mirrored by my own children.

          “There he is,” I murmured as a limp figure walked drunkenly across the street. He did not walk straight, but sauntered toward us, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to go. Scout and Jem asked what was wrong with him and was he sick. He did look dazed and slightly bamboozled, however, I was sure he wasn’t yet sick. When he was close enough, I tolf Heck, “He’s within range, Heck. You better get him now before he goes down the side street.” I didn’t want a mad dog to surprise any innocent civilian taking a walk down the sidewalk. Heck objected. He tried to give the rifle over to me, insisting that it was a one-shot job. When I was younger, I had been precise at archery and shotting, but that was thirty years ago. In the end, I took the rifle and marched to the middle of the street. With a bang, Tim Johnson’s life was gone in less than a second.

          As the week progressed, I noticed that Jem had been getting into a little trouble with Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose. Mrs. Dubose is an old lady who resides in a neighboring house on our street. She lives by her self, except for her Negro housekeeper, Jessie. She’s a poor old lady without great health with a lonely, pitiful life. I have tried to teach my children to be courteous and respectful to Mrs. Dubose, but they never seem to get along with her. I suppose it is because she is quite critical and always says what she is thinking (mostly to them, it is comments such as, “Don’t say hey to me, you ugly child! You say good afternoon Mrs. Dubose.”) I do my part in saying politely, “Good evening, Mrs. Dubose. You look like a picture this evening,” when we walk by. I believe it slightly cheers her up and makes her happy.

          One day, this week, I became very angry with Jem when I found Mrs. Dubose very upset about her wrecked garden. When I inspected the ripped, torn, and mangled garden, I discovered Scout’s baton. Later, at home, I asked Jem if he was responsible. “Yes sir,” he replied. I inquired why. Jem told me, “She said you lawed for niggers and trash.” I wasn’t that bothered by people calling me a “nigger lover” or “nigger defender”. I knew it was morally right to defend Tom Robinson, and kept my head up high. I reasoned with Jem that ruining someone’s garden (though he was angry) was inexcusable. I sent him away with a promise to apologize. “Atticus, she wants me to read to her,” Jem told me when he came back. So I told him he must. I hope that while assisting Mrs. Dubose, he will learn to better understand her; he will know how to climb in her skin and walk around a bit.

Sincerely,

          Atticus Finch